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“I don’t doubt that, darlin’,” he says. “But good people sometimes do bad things. I know that better than anyone.”
I’m not sure what he expects me to say, and I stall completely, my thoughts grinding to a halt. I’m still thinking about what he’s said when he gets up and tugs his shirt back over his head, taking a deep breath.
“I’ll take first watch. You get some sleep.” Then he grins. “Thanks again for saving my life, darlin’.”
His footsteps crunch on the gravel and I watch his back disappear through the entrance, the shadows taking him into their embrace. It’s only then that my exhaustion hits me. I’ve never walked this far, this long, without stopping.
And as I curl up in my sleeping bag, the fire flickering at my back, I can only think about one thing.
How, when Roy Houston called me “darlin,’” it made me feel gross.
But when Elijah does it?
It feels nice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
?
ELIJAH
It’s been six years since I was last in Waco, and I haven’t been looking forward to coming back. We have to pass through the ruined city if we want to take the quickest route to Austin, the old, rusted out buildings of Waco’s downtown already looming ahead of us. By the time the Angels attacked, Waco had turned into a thriving metropolis—but it was one of those that was abandoned after the initial volleys of the invasion.
Now, they just use it as a prison.
I keep my eyes on Charlotte as she strides ahead of me, that big backpack starting to drag on her pace. She doesn’t bother looking back at me as we walk, and while I might normally assume that’s a symptom of her growing distaste for me, I think it’s the opposite.
It’s because she’s starting tolikeme.
No, she’s not acting like it…but I can scent her. She was turned on last night, and it was all I could do to get the hell out of there. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, but at least I didn’t wolf out again.
That might end up being a problem.
Something to worry aboutafterwe’re out of this city.
I jog to catch up to Charlotte, not having to put in much of an effort with that backpack weighing her down and the violin in her hand. She avoids my gaze, but I can see the way her fingers clench, her knuckles going white at my proximity. And even though there’s a glare on her face, the scent of honeysuckle overwhelms me, and I lick my lips instinctively. Charlotte’s eyes flick to my mouth, her cheeks flushing pink.
“What do you want?” she asks.
“We’re going to have to cross the Twin Bridges to get through the city,” I say. “Ever since the dam broke, it’s the only way south.”
“Okay,” she says. “And…?”
“And we’ll need to move fast if we want to avoid unwanted attention,” I say. “It’s a big, exposed stretch of road. We can try to keep alongside the broken down cars still on the bridge, but with that massive backback of yours…”
“I can carry it faster,” she says. “I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m getting a little tired.”
“I can take over, but it might be best to drop any dead weight,” I tell her. “We’ll be in Austin in two days. It’s not a long trip—we can take whatever rations we need and—”
“That’s not what this is about,” she says. “My things are in there.”
I frown. “Your things? Like what?”
“Like…my books, and some sheet music, and my Gran’s favorite sweater,” she says.
“You’ve got books in there?” I say. “It’s gotta be heavy.”
“They’re paperbacks.”
